The Pride in Two
by Alien Emerald
Summary: We are both the image of perfection. We are full of pride and the ability to make others swoon. Meeting each other, suddenly we are unable to command another to follow and beg. For once, I am expected to chase him. And I refuse to give in first. RichKory


she keeps Moet et Chandon

in her pretty cabinet

'let them eat cake' she says

just like Marie Antoinette

a built in remedy

for Khrushchev and Kennedy

at anytime an invitation

you can't decline

caviar and cigarettes

well versed in etiquette

extraordinarily nice

_Killer Queen - Queen_

I don't think knowing that you're beautiful is wrong.

Being rich and spoiled and entirely above it all isn't necessarily my fault. I can't help it. Yet beauty is like candy, rich and sweet and all-too-easy to swallow, and candy is either made or manufactured. I am candy, readily made, with no artificial sweeteners and absolutely no 'free' attached.

If you know you are beautiful, it is simply right to accept it. Pride in my looks as well as in my every striking feature has been in me since I first saw it. If a man wanted me, he would work for it. If I flirted and teased, it was out of fun, and I would never make the first move. Teasing was how I worked, because I knew that no man could deny me. If they wanted more, they had to prove that they were worthy. Why should I ever waste my time chasing when I have the world on a leash, following along behind me?

The morning a few things changed, I found myself awake at 5 am. I lay in bed, not thinking, until I was inclined to brush my hair and slip out of my flannel and into a silk shirt and embroidered designer jeans. This was routine.

The leftover caviar from three nights before wouldn't hold forever, so I ate it in the early morning coolness. I twiddled my fingers hurriedly, trying to finish, trying to begin my day. The white marble floor felt slick with moisture, I noticed. The marvelous grand piano looked lifeless, as it always did; I felt a pang of regret that no one had ever tried to play it before. Even still, I never would.

A little introduction to my life: that morning, I smoked two of the finest cigarettes until I could no longer taste the fish, then slipped into my Porsche and drove onwards. It was still dark.

_If you know that feeling, that feeling of the usual, that feeling of almost near boredom, that feeling that comes more often than it should, then you know my thoughts that day. The rut in the deepest corner of my mind began to dig itself under my skin. I found myself thinking (something I usually tried to avoid) about delicious thoughts, my process of thinking, even the thoughts of others. My mind wandered to actions. Then, to reactions. It drifted on the most abstract rainbow, flowing freely and easily, and I didn't even mind so much that morning. That morning something began to change even before I realized it._

"You won't even believe it, Kory," she whispered. This was Rachel, and I was shocked at her enthusiasm. Nothing got her deep blue eyes to sparkle like sapphires, nothing got her face this anxious, and it worried me. "It's the heir of the richest man in the state. He's _here, _Kory, and he's looking for _you."_

I kept my cool, despite my worry for her wild eyes. If this man could excite the most collected chick in the city, what would it do to me? "What the hell for?"

"How should I know? He just showed up here asking for you!"

"Well, what is he looking for? Money? Sex?"

"He wouldn't say, but oh my god, is he gorgeous! I've never seen anyone more handsome in my entire life."

"Rachel!" I said in indignation. I had honestly never heard her talk like this before. "You're engaged, for god's sake!"

"I _know! _But that doesn't mean I can't notice good looks!"

"Well, let's not keep the man waiting, then." I smiled slyly, despite everything.

The whole conversation had been whispered under the archway of Rachel's glass house. It seemed to echo in my ears as we walked up the fragile halls. The sunlight streamed through the rafters, glittering across the white carpet, giving the illusion that glass was beneath our feet. I felt breakable.

_I began to realize it then, at that moment: something was different. When I felt easily broken in a delicate place, something was wrong. I am always the diamond among cracking glass. Always and forever, until that day._

Rachel was right. He _was _gorgeous, with icy blue eyes unlike any I've ever seen, with rich olive skin as soft as velvet. His hair was tousled messily, black as ink, and it was the only thing that caught me off guard. Messy hair meant self-centered, egotistic men who had no lessons in etiquette.

His eyes found mine, which is always a bonus for the guy. Had his eyes looked anywhere else before they met mine, I would check him off as just another player. The impression that was given in the first five seconds was the most critical to me.

He stood to greet me, eyes still on mine (shockingly). I gave him my hand and he kissed it gently, his lips just lightly brushing my skin. Shivers went up my spine. I was sure they were visible.

"Richard Grayson," he said, and I smiled. Luscious was one word to describe his voice, softer than even his velvet skin.

"Kory Anders," I said, and he nodded and smiled. God, it almost made me melt. I don't think I'd ever met a man who could do that.

"It's a pleasure." And still his eyes did not wander. Something inside me was stirring; I was completely unfamiliar with this way of being treated. Every impression his appearance had shown (meticulously tousled and strong) was wiped away when he spoke. There was something incredibly refreshing about this Richard Grayson, yet so completely aggravating, too.

"Is there any reason why you came to find me?" I was finding his presence to be more intoxicating by the second. We had barely exchanged two full sentences, yet I found myself wanting more of him, thoroughly intrigued as well as challenged.

"I assume you know my father?"

I smiled at him, knowing of the richest man in the city he spoke of so casually. "Of course."

"He's having a celebratory ball, extremely formal, and I was asked to bring the most beautiful girl I could find."

For the smallest second, his eyes flickered to my crimson hair that fell to my waist. So he was a hair guy. Then they fell easily back into my gaze, so easily it was as if they had never wandered. This irked me; he was so cool and calm and collected, and I was completely unfamiliar with the demeanor.

"What's the occasion?" I asked. I was no sucker for compliments, that much is true.

"His fiftieth birthday. He wants it to be big."

"I suppose he would, especially since he could buy the city." I smile, he grins. Already it is a game between us; something akin to pride is flowing in between our bodies, challenging the other spirit with vigor.

"If you have any doubts about coming, I could always bribe your interest."

So easily this was said, I almost didn't register the words. _Bribery?_

"I assume you know who _my _father is."

The smallest of smiles appeared on his face. Or maybe it was just a shadow of the grin he showed before. "Of course."

"Well, then you must know that money is of no interest to me."

"I wasn't thinking of money, love. I was bribing you with what stands before you."

Shock. Complete blinding shock.

_His words were almost mythical. Uninterested, nonchalant, as if he meets the most beautiful girl in the city every day of his life. Then in one sentence everything cracks. Yet it doesn't crumble. It doesn't completely fall. It just _falters. _He is so completely full of himself, obviously, but it's as if he knows that I will say yes, as if he is completely _sure. _No one on earth could have possibly denied this man. Just as no man could possibly have denied me, had I said his words myself._

Then my response came, as swift as the breeze and just as sweet. "I think money would interest me more than you, Mr. Grayson."

I walked past him in a movement so quick he almost looked shocked. I smelt his breath, fresh mint, and the soft scent of clean cotton on him. I'm sure he could smell me as well; the expensive cigarette smoke and the eager scent of cinnamon spice.

I knew Rachel had heard it all from the kitchen she retreated to. I suddenly felt stronger than diamond among the delicate walls.

_Have I just met my exact match, or my polar opposite? A soul mate or a sworn enemy? An act of fate or a simple collide? He is charming and elegant; poise and kind; stunning and passionate. Just like me. We are both so confident, both so used to people falling to our feet, that we are both too stubborn to fall to someone else's. _

_I know I have to see him again. If only to make him fall to the ground before me, begging for mercy. Begging for me._

I make it my mission to go to the birthday ball. I manage to find a close friend of Richard's at a nightclub one night (I call it fate), and he is all too eager to take me. He even dumped his old date for me. If he doesn't make Richard jealous, I don't know who will.

Roy Harper is a good looking guy, but he is a dull stone in comparison to Richard's brilliance. I find myself comparing almost everyone to Richard these days; it seems that no one will ever satisfy my eye more than he has. And maybe it's more than just his looks. It seems that no man's fervent gestures of want can compete with Richard's cool demeanor. No one has ever even been able to remain nonchalant around me.

I'm hoping Richard thinks no one can compete with me, because I know for a fact that no girl can. I hope he thinks of my brilliant emerald eyes, dulling the watery blue and coffee brown and mossy green of others. I hope he thinks of my fiery hair, burning brighter and longer than even the most meticulous hair-loving woman. I hope he thinks of my skin, soft and brown, of my smile, brighter than the moon and even more mysterious, and of my smell. I hope he remembers that he's never found smoke more attractive.

Maybe I've met my match, but I am determined to break him.

The night of the party, I dress in an elegant emerald dress. It's my most expensive, genuine emeralds and diamonds encrusted in swirling patterns and along the hem. It's real silk, so soft it almost feels watery. It's skin tight and goes just long enough to be appropriate. Adorning the dress is a chinchilla fur rib-coat, a diamond necklace, and a ruby headdress that holds my hair atop my head messily. My legs, golden brown and almost Amazonian, end in two simple stilettos.

Roy picks me up, and even though his eyes cannot stop hungering for me, I pay no attention. The night is warm and heavy, the moon full, and the stars seem even brighter than normal. Something will change tonight. I will either succeed in my greatest victory or lose my greatest challenge.

Either way, my life will change from here on out.

The manor is glorious. White peacocks strut along the golden fountain, the green grass sprinkled with white roses, a glorious marble pathway leading up to the house. The iron gates are heavily guarded, but we have no trouble getting in. Roy flashes a smile at the guards and they nod in recognition. I'm sure he comes here daily.

_For a moment I imagine dating this egotistical maniac. For sure it would kill Richard to watch me with this man, his best friend, and even be driven up to his very house on the arm of a different man._

The manor did not disappoint. It is the most glorious place I have ever seen.

The moon seems to make the walls glitter on the outside. Inside, the ceilings are painted like the Sistine Chapel. White is the theme, and the home seems almost untouched by human hand. Yet people linger near the pale golden kitchen, atop the spiral staircase, and even in the fire lit living room. Warmth spreads through the very folds of the carpet. It seeps into my skin, relaxing me and setting me on edge at the same time, and I find it hard not to love this place. The pool light cascades against the glass doors almost eerily, sending waves of crystal blue onto the expensive people lined around the room. Richard wasn't kidding when he said 'formal.' Even the children are dressed in million-dollar clothes.

Despite the figure of Richard nagging in even the most intimate corner of my mind, I find I am enjoying myself. I let Roy grab my arm and lead me towards the kitchen counter. Two bartenders take our orders, and in a matter of minutes I have downed two dry martinis and am feeling calmer by the minute. I even permit the hot breath of Roy on my neck. Clearly, he doesn't understand the word etiquette. And clearly, I don't care.

_I don't know how I realize it. I don't even know how it's possible for a gaze to be tangible, but it feels like hot water boiling down my back. _His _gaze. God, I know it's his gaze, because nothing is that unwavering, that hot and concentrated and _simply breathtaking. _He has found me, his best friend whispering in my ear, and I am determined to make him as jealous as possible._

I turn my head and meet Roy's lips. He groans approvingly, disgusting me thoroughly, but I can hardly feel his hot lips against mine. All I realize is that the gaze intensifies tenfold. There is no doubt about it; Richard is completely incredulous. And I am completely satisfied.

"Hello, Roy." There is absolutely no mistaking the velvet of his voice. I sigh against Roy's lips simply because Richard has made me melt with two words. I know at once that both boys think it was out of pleasure; and I know at once that I've done the right thing.

"Richard," Roy says. He is so damn proud it almost makes me smile. He has won a prize and he now has the hottest head in the room.

"Lovely date you have there," Richard says. His words are jealous and so obviously I'm-going-to-steal-your-prize-you-egotistical-bastard, but his voice is praising. He is so clever and charismatic I can hardly stand it. "Kory," he nods to me.

"You two know each other?" Roy asks.

I could tell Roy everything and embarrass the hell out of Richard, just to make him flinch for once in his life. But I don't. I don't even open my mouth and I have no reason why.

Richard nods. He may just walk away, he looks so casual. I can see his date staring longingly his way. She is pretty, blonde and slim, with just a tint of 'spoiled' in her, and I know Richard is upset he didn't get to take me. When you ask for the prettiest girl you can find, your only choice is to settle for the next best thing.

"Could I borrow her for a while?" Richard inquires. "Just a dance. Katherine is looking to meet you, anyways."

'Katherine' turns out to be the petite blonde I spotted. Roy looks annoyed at having to give me up, but cheers up when Katherine hugs him animatedly.

Richard holds out his arm for me to take, but I ignore it. I walk forward to where I can see the vast marble dance floor in the foyer. A live orchestra is playing on a raised platform, and I get as close as I possibly can to the center, brushing against the thousand-dollar fibers of the richest people in the city, crowded in the oval room and dancing with self-importance. I turn around to face Richard, who has followed me into the center. He looks dashing in a tux and blue tie that is the exact color of his eyes.

"I hope you know," I say, placing one hand on his shoulder and the other in his own, "that I am never to be borrowed."

He raises a long eyebrow. I expect anything at this point, so his words don't surprise me. "Can you be owned, then?"

"Only if I want to be," I whisper, my voice deadly. I notice that despite the lack of attention he showed the previous day, there is almost a desperate hunger in the way he now looks at me. His eyes cling to my every feature longingly. He is on the way to giving in. I can tell.

_It is odd that I don't really notice how urgently my eyes take him in. My mind is spinning with the speed I am trying to capture him with; it's as if I'm afraid he'll turn and leave, and this is my only chance. I want him so badly it hurts. I have never wanted anything more in my entire life, yet I refuse to give in first._

"Why wouldn't you want to be owned by me?" he whispers back. The ground twirls below our floating feet. As I guessed, he is an impeccable dancer. We flow together more easily than the melody itself.

I don't answer. I don't answer because I think he already knows the answer. I am too stubborn to fall for him, especially since he refuses to beg for me first.

"Everyone wants what they can't have, darling," I say. I am flirting heavily, and I can tell his lust is seeping through his very skin. I am sure it's simply _flowing _from me.

"We don't want each other, Kory." It's the first time he's ever said my name. I have never heard it sound more right than coming from his lips. "We _need _each other."

I have held out this long. I have denied my desire to prove to myself that I could. I'm sure he's done the same. One of us has to make the sacrifice of pride; one of us cannot simply give in….not _one_ of us. _Both_ of us refuse to fall first. We are pressed so close together, our lips almost brushing, the mint of his breath fresh and cool on my mouth. I want so badly to close the distance.

It is without words that I admit him. Is it even me? It must be both of us, as if our minds are one, the time coming at the exact same moment. It is with the smallest of cues, the slightest of signals, barely a flutter in our minds. Barely a flutter and he is mine, and I am his. Skin on skin, white hot skin, and we are each other's.


End file.
